Planting the Seed

Every fetish has its inception. A careless kick between the legs as a boy can have a grown man begging to worship the toes that just pulverised his most sensitive organs. 

     Tracey yawned as she sauntered into the kitchen, her hips sashaying as she did. Her silk robe was parted, the tie hung down open by her waist as superfluously as my thoroughly-sterilised testicles now hung between my legs. Her ample cleavage poured out from the curtains the robe formed, framing her bodice perfectly, unencumbered by a bra. Her panties alone provided the only semblance of modesty as she greeted us that morning. I couldn't help but gaze longingly at her buxom frame, her beautifully maintained manicure and pedicure. There may even be more nail polish on her body than fabric I thought.

     I gazed over to my wife, seated at the dining table beside me, dressed much the same, but looking every one of her 30 years older than her young daughter Tracey. Of course she was 30 years older than me too, I had met her as the mother of my friend, but of course I had met her in that formative period of my life when a passing infatuation with an older woman became an obsession that could last a lifetime. Ever since she caught me as a shy 12 year old, masturbating furiously in the bathroom of her home to a picture of her in a swimsuit from a family vacation, I was hers. I remember she was stunned initially but didn't leave the room, she instead surveyed my pathetic form, holding my adolescent cock in my right hand and the photo of her in the other. I couldn't help but remember the subtle passing of a smirk across her face, I had hoped she was perhaps even flattered. She crossed her arms, emphasising her bust, "Go on," she stated, "Finish." She raised an eyebrow, egging me on.

     I was shocked but too caught up in my lust to think sensibly. I held her gaze, then looked her womanly figure up and down. She was a stunning specimen in her early 40's at the time, she'd just returned from her office job wearing a pencil black skirt, stockings and black pumps with a tight full length woollen blouse. I started to slowly masturbate once again, she let me build up slowly, breathing harder and harder in a false sense of security. She removed a cigarette from a pack she'd been holding and lit it slowly, taking a sensual drag and narrowing her gaze. Oh, how I wanted those lips to purse around me in that moment.
     She was a seasoned woman and could tell that I was soon approaching climax. As the first spurt of cum rocketed forth, so too did her athletic and sleek right leg, jamming her rounded high heel's toe into my vulnerable developing organs. I was in sudden agony, the pain rushing up from my balls into my abdomen, crippling me suddenly. I fell to the floor, still sending wave after wave of cum across the floor. I was oblivious to what happened next, other than knowing I must have been on the floor for some time before I had the strength to stand against the pain.

     She returned much later with an ice pack in her dainty hand. "Oh good, you're up." She walked menacingly to my person, taking her time, the click of her heels lingered with intent. I shuddered, expecting another assault on my delicate organs. She laughed at my shudder, the lit cigarette still hanging from her crimson lips, a girlish but cruel laugh. "Don't worry, I think you've learned your lesson. Now don't let me catch you doing that again or I might have to make sure you never can, if you catch my drift." She winked at me.

     "What do you mean?" I stuttered.

     She rolled her eyes, looking every bit the brat she must have been in her teens and early twenties, twisting every man effortlessly to her whim. "I mean, if you do it again I'll kick you so hard between the legs that I'll rupture both of your nuts. Understand now?" She spat. "Or do I need to put those balls on the toilet seat and slam down the lid?"

     I nodded hurriedly, ashamed of my profound weakness before her.

     "Good," she chided, bringing her hand up to my chin in a consolatory fashion. "Now, this is for you." She pulled the waistband of my underpants away from my body a good 6 inches, slipping the rock-hard ice pack inside. I looked up to meet her gaze as she stared deeply into my eyes, giving me a condescending glare as she cocked her head to the side, drinking in my fear of the impending agony I was about to experience. My eyes begged her not to follow through in vain. "Oh God, no."

     She let go of the band suddenly and with a loud "crack" the ice pack slammed into my groin, already sensitive from having her toes buried deep within, the pain hit me like a wave, I was momentarily delirious. I whimpered, frozen. She stood and surveyed me menacingly, hands on ample hips, awaiting the full reality of the pain to sink in. Then it hit me like a wall and I was prostrate on the ground in seconds.

     What felt like hours later I hobbled out of the bathroom and stumbled down the street back home, never mentioning this to anyone. Despite what she must have only been doing with the best of intentions to set me straight for my actions, she had embedded a deep-seated lust for older women, their feet and the pain they could cause so easily to my reproductive organs.

     Fast-forward to the current moment, as I stared longingly at her, just as I did that bikini-clad photograph. She was sitting beside me, reading the newspaper through her tortoise-shelled glasses, her silver hair flowing in waves enticingly down her chest.

     "Do you remember that time you caught me jerking off to that photograph of you?"
     She lowered her newspaper and raised an eyebrow over her thick-rimmed glasses,  surveying her pet "As I recall I told you if you didn't cut it out, I'd make your little nads very familiar with my toilet seat and how it feels with me on top of it." She pursed her lips enticingly, "Tell me, did you ever blow your load while thinking about me after that day?"
     She smirked, she already knew the answer. She raised her heavenly body from her chair, leaned over me, slipping her small, soft and warm hand past my waistband and around my balls. "Come now, we've got some toilet training to do." She squeezed me roughly, eliciting a guttural moan.

Friends with Benefits

     Hannah stormed into the living room, clearly excited to tell me what she'd learned in psychology class today. She hurried in and propped herself down on the couch next to me. The stunning redhead was bubbling over trying to hold it all in.

     "Man, you guys are so fucked up." She chimed.

     "What are you talking about?"

     "We were learning all about fetishes and deviant behaviour today."

     "Oh yeah?" I bit. She had my full attention now. Even hearing a woman talk about my proclivities often got me worked up enough to warrant a stroke later. 

     "Some guys are into feet, that's called podophilia. Have you heard of that?"

     "Uh- no," I lied. I had in fact laid awake many a night with one of Hannah's high heels covering my face, drinking in the sweet aroma of her foot sweat from a hard day's work.

     "Well, some guys like to suck and lick girl's feet and toes. It can even make them cum."

     I could feel the blood rushing to my groin, I stirred in my seat as my pants started to make a telltale tent.

     "I can't imagine it." She looked ponderously down at her own beautiful feet encased in a gorgeous set of black heels I'd gotten familiar with multiple times. "I can't imagine my stinky feet ever getting a guy to pump on his iron. Or anywhere near enough to blow his wad."

     Hannah was the best friend a guy could ask for. The dirty talk was a stunning masturbatory aid. But if I was really pushed to fault her, it would have been a dream come true if this lustful creature wasn't a lesbian. So many of our interactions left me sexually frustrated. I was feeling today would be no different.

     "Hey Dan," she cooed. I did love the way she almost sang my name. "If you had a secret fetish, you'd tell me, right?" She looked at me with her big blue doe eyes and batted her eyelashes, tempting me into her trap.

      "Well..." I started. She scooted over to me on the couch and placed a gentle palm on my tenting crotch. I moaned. She'd caught me off guard but ever-so willing.

      "Ooo..." she chirped, "Somebody looks like they were enjoying our little chat." She giggled, "It's okay, you're safe with me. Tell me what you've always fantasised about a girl doing? I think it could be useful for school for me to know how common these fetishes are. Plus you should think of this as your friend helping you out. Even though I'm a lesbian I am still aware that you're hetero, and I'm sure you've thought about what this pussy must be like."

      I was already short of breath as her hand expertly worked my shaft. What a shame those hands only ever worked clits. 

     "Do you like feet? Do you want to suck on my toes and smell my stinky shoes, baby?"

     "Yes, please," I moaned.

     "Wow, there you go!" she continued her ministrations on my throbbing cock through my pants. "They did say it was common. Well, you can borrow my shoes and socks any time you like, Dan. Just don't cum inside them... You fucking little pervert." The dirty talk was having its intended effect.

     "Thank you, Mistress."

     She burst out laughing, "Mistress?! And you're a little bitch to match too. I always thought you'd make a great sub. Guess who's going to be licking my high heels clean from now on."

     I jerked forward and moaned heavily at the suggestion, "Thank you, Mistress," she giggled.        

     "Ooo... He likes the sound of that. Almost made you cum in your pants, huh? I can feel a bit of a wet patch. You're such a fucking loser. Tell me what else do you imagine me doing to you?"

     I was completely enthralled by her game now. "I- I like to get hit."

     She increased the pace of her delicate porcelain hand as it worked my aching dick. "You want to get slapped and whipped? I can do that, honey. That's easy." She purred.

     "No, not like that, mistress, I like to get hit in- in the balls."

     "Oh really?" She moaned in my ear. She pulled her hand back and slapped back down on my jewels playfully before again returning to her tender hand-job. "Like that?"

     She'd knocked some wind out of me, but I desperately wanted to see how cruel she could be.

     "Please, mistress. Harder." I begged her. "I fantasise every night about a strong woman in my life busting my balls at every opportunity, just for her amusement. I want her to own them completely, and I want to be afraid that at any moment she could rupture them completely and not care in the slightest.

     "Okay," she started, drinking in just how vulnerable i had made myself in this moment. "I'll tell you what, I'm going to tell you what I'll do. I'm going to take these high heels, and the second you cum, I'm going to stand up and then stomp down on your balls so hard, you'll be crying for your mommy. Then I'm going to slowly grind you out like a cigarette, back and forth until there's nothing but minced meat left of your precious little balls." She was practically moaning this into my ear, her hot breath working me up into a frenzy as she described how she was going to end my fertility. "Then I'm going to drop my delicate little knee deep into the mangled mess left in your sack, and I'm going to bounce my knee down hard on your testicles until I make sure you can never, ever have babies."

     That was enough to send me over the edge. I came violently in a massive torrent that completely saturated me, the stains soon visible through my pants. I was in ecstasy, in the deep throes of a violent orgasm.

     Hannah looked pleased with herself, a deviant smile affixed her face as she drank in her masterwork. She was completely aware and intoxicated by the effortless power she demonstrated over me and how easily she could manipulate other men the very same way. She felt empowered. 

     I was post-coital and delirious, spellbound by what this turn of events would mean for our friendship and my longstanding secret desire to have her inflict ball pain whenever she deemed fit. I could already imagine her coming home from school to find me having skipped on my chores. Her sleek frame, her lustrous red-hair caught in the gale force of her anger, majestically bobbing as it framed her malice-ridden face. I pulsed another load of cum at the very thought of her launching her lithe leg back and then hurtling it up and into my delicate organs, pulverising my manhood along with my identity as a man. Not caring whether I would ever function again, knowing only that it amused her to see me in pain would be enough.

     She stood in front me as I backed in her radiant and intoxicating beauty. 

     "Thank you," I barely breathed out, exasperated.

     "Don't thank me yet. You know, I caught you sniffing these shoes the other night, but you didn't notice."

     "What-" I started.

     "That's right, and I saw you make a little mess all over yourself. So I think it's about time these heels got a little payback." She raised her high heel menacingly over my crotch. "Tell you what, I've been walking around all day in these. So after I give you a big old stomp and then twist my foot around in there a good... hmmm... let's say ten times, you can lick the dirt off these heels and then bury your nose inside. Sound like a plan, sweetie?"

     I spread my legs wide. "Yes, mistress."

     "Good boy," she half smiled before jamming her heel-clad foot excruciatingly deep into my groin, pinning my reproductive organs cruelly to the seat below me. She blew some hair from her face as I collapsed onto the couch, convulsing from the pain. Her gorgeous leg tensed as it kept me pinned by the slowly rupturing gonads to the couch. I keened a high-pitched pathetic sound, inconsolably in a state of anguish.

     "Now the fun part," she smirked as she began to count.

     "One." she said menacingly as she twisted her gorgeous foot. I cried out pitifully. 

     It did not stop her.

Ballbuster Hall of Fame - Katie Lee Pritchard

Girlfriend of your dreams. This girl looks like she would spit in your mouth and sack tap you just to say hello.

No remorse in those eyes. I'll bet the mug shot photographer was nursing a semi the whole time she was staring down that lens.

I'll begin by saying this news story makes me very uncomfortable about my fetish. In that, my pants are now uncomfortably tight. This was a woman who was attempting to cuck her boyfriend, and when he refused, she non-consensually likely ruptured his testicles. As guilty as that makes me feel, the more I read the harder I got... And even now I still fantasise about Katie a lot. In an interview later, the boyfriend even admits he's still in love with her. Can you blame him?

This is the sort of girl your mother warned you about. She sounds like she has a long history of mental health problems. There's a story floating around about her getting arrested and kicking a cop in the nuts as well. So it's likely she has no remorse and even enjoys it, which gives me an uncomfortable amount of precum in my shorts. This is a woman who knows your weaknesses and is willing to exploit them to get what she wants.

She is probably the type of girl that makes her boyfriend wait on her for every need, and treats him like her personal slave. Submissives like myself aside, I can see why any man would stick around long after she handed out a non-consensual vasectomy. This petite hairdresser looks like she could suck the cum out of your dick in record time, but then crush your balls to leave you something to remember her by.

This is not the woman you marry or plan to spend the rest of your life with. She's the girl you crawl around on all-fours for, fulfilling every whim she has until your mental breakdown. She discards you for someone younger, fitter, richer, or probably just with a bigger dick. And you move on with a reduced sperm count and memories to jerk off in the bathroom with for the rest of your life. No matter how boring your marriage is, you can always run away and jerk off to the time Katie kicked you in the balls because you hadn't made dinner in time. I'm not sure what it says about me as a person that knowing all this, I would have absolutely let her cuck me and then I'd beg just to suck on her toes after she came home, and probably have cum while doing so. I need help. The sort of help Katie can provide.

I stalked her Instagram for you, so you can spend a little quality time with your hand imagining what being her slave would be like too.

A Ballbusting Princess deserves to be worshipped.

I would have sucked the dirt off each toe and licked her soles clean,
letting her rest her tired feet agonisingly deep in my crotch.
Maybe she's even sipping a cool drink I've just made her,
as she slowly crushes my testicle meat with her bare heel.

And she has ballbusting boots too. Hnnng... Such a satisfying thud those would make,
crushing the air out of my lungs as she mercilessly buries them into my pelvis.

The look she gives you as she slowly destroys any chance of you ever becoming a father.

I would kneel down and spread my legs for her instinctively,
then beg for her legs to make me regret being born a man.

Definitely given out a vasectomy or two before.
In high school she would have nutted you hard for not doing her homework on time.
You'd be her little high-kick practice dummy.
Those cheer skirts probably made it real easy to rack unsuspecting nuts too,
sailing up and away at the split,
giving you a preview of the beautiful crotch only football players got to taste.
I'll bet she did gymnastics too, she'd be extra flexible.
You could probably taste her toes after the backswing she could take.

The nails that mangled her boyfriend's chances of having children. 

I would have begged to lick those heels clean.
And then the sweat off those soles. Divine.

After a long hard day's work, the sight that greets you when you get home...
You immediately get rock hard at the sight of this Goddess.
Seconds before she grabs a hold of your nutmeat for not cooking dinner on time.
Oh no, she's had a few drinks after work,
she always makes you hurt extra good when she's a little bit tipsy.
Sounds like the boyfriend wasn't into ballbusting,
in this outfit I probably would have cum mid-squeeze.
I'm sure that would have only made her angrier. Yummy.

Ballbusting by Appointment

All it would take is a well placed foot and suddenly I become the perfect slave.
What I wouldn't give to feel that foot drain me completely and then ruin me for all women.

I picked up the nearest patient's chart and headed for the clinic room. I had to walk gingerly to avoid reigniting the searing pain still lingering in my balls. A painfully sweet memory of the toll the hands - but more importantly the sexy French manicured nails - of that hooker had taken on my reproductive glands. The dull ache was a constant reminder of how thoroughly and easily I had been owned by that beautiful young woman, but still left me with copious painful jerk material. Even though it still hurt to cum, even weeks later, the thought that she so effortlessly ruined me, made me cum harder through the pain.
     I glanced down at the chart to see the patient's name before entering the room. It read "Clare Coleman." I entered the room and immediately froze. It was her! The hooker from that fateful night. She was dressed to kill in a tight, body hugging summer dress. It rode so high up her crossed legs, with enough cleavage to send blood pulsing into my cock. She was wearing a strappy set of heels, and I couldn't help but appreciate her flawless makeup and mani-pedi. She was just as angelic as I remembered in my fantasies.
     "Ms- Ms Coleman," I stuttered.
     "Hi," she shot me a warm, friendly tone. Not at all recognising me for the man she humbled so completely only weeks before.
     "What brings you in today?" I began to sweat. I couldn't believe my luck, but I tried to maintain my composure desperately.
     "Well, it's actually my feet. I spend a lot of time at work on them, and they're really sore. Do you think you could take a look? Sorry but they're a little sweaty today."
     "That's nice. I mean, um, well, that's fine. Sure, yes, I can," I attempted. She gave me a knowing smirk. I kneeled down at her feet, I cleared my throat. "Could you take your shoes off?"
     "Well, normally a guy buys me dinner first," she chided with a very feminine giggle.
     "I'm sorry?" I started, very uncomfortable with my personal life careening so wildly into my professional life. Thank God she hadn't recognised me.
     "It's 2018, honey, a girl can do a lot with her feet."
     I spluttered. "Like what?"
     "Well, since you asked, some guys like to lick my feet, some even suck on my toes." She pondered like a teenage girl reliving a fantasy. "And some even like it when I wrap both my feet around their dicks and make them blow their loads all over my feet."
     She stared unashamedly and deeply into my eyes. I gulped audibly.
     She laughed down at me. "I'm just kidding." She slipped her heels off and placed her dainty right foot on my upper thigh and raised her left foot up to my face. I was stunned. I could smell the musk of her foot, and could see the light sheen of the summer heat glossing it with sweat. It looked so delicious. This Goddess was so perfect. I reached up for her foot, and she pulled back slightly, toying with me. I grimaced, and then she finally let me touch her perfect feet.
     I began to knead them looking for tenderness. I couldn't fault them. They were beautiful. I began to fantasise about licking them, smelling them, even sucking on her freshly painted toes.
     She moaned as I massaged her feet. My cock began to grow in my pants, tenting uncomfortably. I massaged more vigorously and elicited more near-orgasmic sounds.
     She looked down at me, our eyes met. "You look kind of familiar."
     I panicked. "Oh, no, I've just got one of those faces." I shrugged.
     "No, I definitely know you from somewhere." And then her face lit up. "Oh my God! You're that sick fuck whose nads I scrambled."
     I went to stand and extricate myself, but she placed her left foot on my shoulder and pushed me back down hard. With her legs so tantalisingly spread across me, I could now see her lace red panties and the outline of her lips, teasing me as though I could ever be worth sliding inside.
     "It's totally okay," she assured me. "I won't tell anyone."
     I breathed a sigh of relief.
     "How are they hanging though? I mean, I sure did a number on them. I was thinking about them all night after you drove away. After I nearly stuck my nails all the way through, all I could think was "no more babies for you."" She laughed, mocking me cruelly.
     "Don't worry about it. My housemate already sterilised me. They're still pretty sore to be honest."
     "Wow, really? I must have gotten carried away." Her left foot traced its way down my chest to my groin. She began drawing circles with her big toe around my crotch, then roughly jutted her foot firmly up between my legs. I coughed hard.
     "Whoops," she feigned remorse. "Still a bit sensitive down there it seems. Although that is a very hard cock you have there. How very unprofessional of you. I think I'm going to need you to make it up to me."
     She raised her right foot up to my mouth.
     "Kiss it." She pressed her toes up to my lips and I kissed them feverishly. I wanted to worship every inch of her so badly. "Now stick out your tongue." I complied so willingly as she ran the sole of her foot up and down my tongue. "God, you're so easy. Open wide." She jammed her toes deep into my mouth and I sucked down on them, savouring the salty, sweat from her feet.
     "I don't even care about this appointment anymore. I think I'll enjoy making you cum in your pants even more. Then you'll have to walk around all day knowing that I made you ruin yourself."
     I moaned. Still seated before me like the Queen she was, she drew her left foot back under the chair and then freight-trained it up between my legs, leaving it firmly in my mangled groin. I choked, but kept at her feet, not wanting to lose a moment. Then she drew her beautifully tanned and toned leg back and hurtled it forward once again, damaging the last of my manhood irreparably. I began to keen as she assaulted me over and over, jamming the top of her petite foot into my organs. I was in agony, but the most beautiful kind.
     And then like a faucet, I came into my pants. It was pure unadulterated ecstasy. I collapsed forward into her lap, my mouth pressed firmly against her pussy. Her legs wrapped around me, she pulled her underwear to the side. "What are you waiting for?" I made sure to please her. She reached down and grabbed me by the hair, grinding my face until she rode the last wave of her orgasm. She sighed, utterly spent. I nursed my battered crotch, as I lay my head in her lap, she stroked my face.
     And then she abruptly shoved me off her and onto the ground. Just another display of how disposable I was to her. She was so adept at dominating me. I wanted to please her so badly in every conceivable way. "So what should I do about my aching feet?"
     In a higher pitch than usual, I said as I lay on my back, "I'll give you some anti-inflammatories and then try to stay off them for a couple of days."
     "Okay, that sounds good. And what are you going to do about your balls?" She said as she slipped her heels back on.
     "Probably ice them when I get home."
     She stood up in front of me, menacingly hovering between my legs.
     "Well, if you're going to ice them anyway-"
     She drew her leg back gracefully and powered her full stride with the weight of her tiny but sumptuous frame, bringing her heel-clad foot thundering into my vulnerable and exposed groin.
     A solid *CRUNCH* emanated from my groin as my world exploded into sheer agony. I writhed in mind-numbing pain. My abdomen screamed out from the damage her petite foot had wrought.
     She squatted down to slip her hand into my pocket. She retrieved my wallet and this time took my credit card. "I'll be keeping this. And I'll be seeing you next week." She walked around to where her feet were placed victoriously before my face, as I struggled, almost catatonic, not to vomit.
     She tapped her foot impatiently. "Now kiss the foot that just ruined your sex life." Through the pained haze I leaned forward and tenderly kissed her foot. "Good boy," she smirked. "Very good boy."
     She left me to dwell in my pain.

Ballbusting Hooker

There is something about finding a beautiful woman, who moments earlier was a complete stranger, and handing over your most vulnerable possessions in the world for her personal stress relief. Even sexier if she doesn't mind causing a little bit of permanent damage.

She sauntered over to the car window and leaned down to my eye level. Allowing me an ample view of her cleavage in a tight red dress. "Hey honey," she started in a sultry tone. "My name's Clare, after a good time?" She looked at the tenting crotch of my pants knowingly.
     "Yeah, I am," I managed, swallowing hard.
     She gestured to my swollen member with her hand still intertwined with her cigarette. "Sure looks like you are. What are you after?"
     "This might sound a little strange, but-"
     "Baby, ain't no need to be embarrassed. I've seen and done just about everything. Now what do you want?"
     I paused. "I want you to hurt me. Hurt my balls."
     She paused for a moment. I thought she was disgusted. I prepared myself for rejection. "You want anything else from me or is that it?"
     I sighed a breath of relief. "That's all I want."
     She gave me a hard stare, figuring out what kind of man I was, and she'd seen plenty of different kinds for a girl so young.
     "You a submissive type or something?"
     "I like to be dominated." I breathed.
     She got a cheeky look on her face, lifting her cigarette to her pouty black-painted lips and dragged hard. She removed the cigarette and exhaled her smoke in my face. I coughed. "Mmmhmmm," she moaned.
     She threw her cigarette butt to the ground and ground it out under her Doc Martens heel.
     "Unzip." she ordered quite curtly.
     I undid my fly as she reached her right hand inside the car window down to my crotch. She snaked her delicate fingers around my rigid cock, which was still throbbing in anticipation, to my scrotum and grabbed me up completely in her hand.
     I moaned, grabbing a hold of the steering wheel, bracing myself for what would come next.
     Then she began to squeeze. Her warm, soft feminine hand deftly destroying my world. Shrinking my whole existence down to a pinpoint thought of self-preservation. I gave myself over to the feeling and rode the wave of pain as she began to squeeze tighter and tighter.
     I began to wail a soft high pitch sound, my head leaned forward, my forehead pressing against the steering wheel for support. I was collapsing around her hand.
     She placed her left hand around the back of my neck. It was motherly, soothing even.
     "Want me to squeeze harder, sweetie?"
     I nodded through the pain.
     "Okay, but remember I asked when you can't walk straight."
     She clamped down hard. It was a sharp, blinding pain. I keened like a beaten animal.
     She leaned into my face, her lips almost against my ear, her breath hot and moist whispering, "I'm only getting started, you little bitch." I shuddered.
     She began twisting and turning her wrist, mangling my balls in her small delicate hand.
     She whispered again, "Looks like no babies for you... You're barely going to even be a man after this... I wonder if you'll even be able to get that tiny dick hard. You think I should just crush them?"
     "No! Please!" I squealed through the pain.
     "Oh no, does little baby have an owie?" She cooed. "Too bad, because mommy's going to give you a vasectomy on the house. You ever had a girl dig her nails in real good?"
     "No." I barely managed.
     "Well, you're about to. Lets see if I can pop one."
     Then she dug her nails in. I was instantly transformed into a silent, frozen mess. Focussed only on the pain, I couldn't move. She continued to maul me for another 10 seconds, crackling sounds emanated from my balls.
     "Oooo... I think I broke them." She cooed.
     More crunching noises echoed through my brain as she continued to deliver a very thorough vasectomy.
     She finished me off by drawing a big, slow circle with my balls, pulling them aggressively away from my body. I followed her every movement, completely under her control. Her big finale came as she pulled her hand sharply upward, my body following her every move, raising off the seat. She leaned backward, using the weight of her tiny frame to completely destroy me.
     Then suddenly she let go. I collapsed back into the seat, thoroughly defeated. I moaned, aching fiercely through my abdomen. I felt like throwing up.
     She let me recover briefly.
     "Wow, your nuts can take quite a beating."
     "Thank you," I breathed.
     She reached into my jacket pocket and took my wallet from me.
     She took all the cash I had, approximately $500, and slipped it into her bra. She threw the empty wallet down into my crotch, the edge connecting sharply with my massacred nuts. I yelped.
     "Cute," she chirped. "Now open your mouth." I complied. She pushed her hair back from her face and spat violently into my mouth. It was beautiful and warm.
      "Does that taste good, baby?" she pouted. I nodded through the pain. Let's make this a regular thing, shall we? Bye for now, lover." She looked me over once more before patting my mangled crotch twice playfully, and turning to saunter away, swaying her hips sexily from side to side.

Relationship Goals: A Vignette

The things I would give to have my balls mangled
beyond repair by a woman like this...

     Tracey's buxom mother walked in on me lying on our bed, jerking my cock furiously into an old, sweaty gym sock of hers.
     "You dirty, little boy," she smirked as she walked over to me. "Sometimes I forget how horny men 30 years younger than me can be. There will be none of that while I'm using that cock. That cum belongs to me. You need to be punished."
     "But Tracey let me jerk into her socks all the time!"
     "Well then," she began. Swatting my hands away from my throbbing cock, cupping my balls with her delicate feminine left hand. "I guess I should make clear-" She balled up her right hand into a fist.
     "I'm." *crunch* "Not." *crackle* "My." *snap* "Daughter."
     She left her right hand buried deep into my balls and ground it into her palm, trying to meet her hands through my delicate meat. I was keening a high-pitched squeal. Inconsolable.
     "That should teach you, boy." She let go of my balls and I collapsed into myself.
     She pulled up her skirt and raised a bent leg up onto the bed. She placed her delicate, feminine foot onto my balls and leaned into me, bringing her face close to mine. I cried out in anguish as her soft sole crushed my very being. I arched my back, rigid with pain.
     "Open your mouth," she snapped. I complied, overcome by the pain in my precious organs.
     She spat into my mouth, I tasted her before swallowing hungrily.
     "Thank you," I whined. She ground her foot back and forth like she was putting out a cigarette.

Honeymoon Heartbreak

Nothing more dangerous for a pair of balls than being married
to a woman that has no use for functioning sperm.

     Tracey gripped my shoulders and jammed her knee firmly into my testicles.

     "I thought you'd take it badly," I moaned, the wind rushing from my lungs. Finding myself wedged between two generations of ballbusting women, I turned to my newly-wed wife for support after this testicle-crushing blow. "I think this would come better from y-"

     My beautiful wife, more than 30 years my senior, thrust her bony knee fiercely up to where her daughter's had just inflicted its damage.

     "Only I may touch them now," she scolded firmly.

     "Sorry," I gasped, half-bent, clutching my knees.

     "I was busting his nuts long before you showed up, mom!" yelled Tracey, viciously hurtling her toenails into my tender nutmeat from behind, very firmly making her point. Her freshly pedicured nails dug deep into my organs. I wailed in a high pitch as I sank down to my knees. "I can't believe you went to the Courthouse and just got married to my mother!"

     "In my defense," I coughed. "She had her nails sunk into my balls when I signed the papers."

     Tracey's mother looked quite pleased with herself as she examined her manicured nails, pouting ever so slightly, thinking of the amused look on the female courthouse clerk's face as she dug her nails in deeper and deeper.

     Tracey shouted down at my deflated state. "Jesus! What were you even worried about your balls for?! It's not like they work anymore, my stilettos already made sure of that!"
     I decided to change the topic to avoid more agony. "That kick hurt more than usual," I coughed.
     "Oh! I'm growing out my toenails. I just got a pedi! Don't they look wonderful."
     While I still faced away from her on my knees, Tracey jammed the top of her foot into my balls, this time leaving it wedged there so I could take the time to examine her delicious toes as they appeared between my legs from behind.
     "Beautiful..." I keened as my abdomen exploded in sweet pain.

     "I'd thank you kindly to stop busting your step-father's balls. That will be my job from now on," chimed my wife.

     "You're old enough to be his mother!"

     "He doesn't seem to mind, I think he even likes it. He didn't have any problem cumming all over my feet this morning either. Must be some latent fantasy, practically Oedipal," she winked at her daughter.

     "I'd say it was the wrinkles, that comes with age," she chided her mother. "So you're still giving footjobs? Typical. I remember when you'd give them out like candy to all the boys I brought home."

     "When you have a gift, dear, it's best shared. Although, if I recall correctly, all those boys needed was a little graze of my toes and they'd spurt all over their shorts. I do miss how pent up teenage boys get."

     "I liked those boys!"
     "Not enough to give them a little rub. You knew all those boys were infatuated with your feet, the least you could have done was given them a little gas pedal. You were too busy getting them to buy you things and do your homework, I hated seeing them go home with their achey blue balls. So cruel."
     Tracey pouted sourly, but then sensed a chance to get back at her mother, "Well," Tracey purred, and bent down to my ear. Her warm breath was orgasmic. She wrapped her arms around my chest from behind, pressing her breasts against my back, snaking her toned bare leg around my torso, her foot crept down, resting heavily between my legs, rubbing her sole against my swelling member. "You should really stop making so many decisions with your little ballsies," she cooed. "Look what that gets you... Daddy." I moaned involuntarily.

     She raised her leg vertically into the air, using her yoga flexibility and then slammed her foot down in a graceful arch into my agonising mess of a crotch. Over and over, she raised her foot up and brought it down, crunching methodically. I was delirious from the pain.

     My wife rolled her eyes. "Are you just about done?"

     "Almost," she breathed heavily, exasperated from the punishment she was dishing out. She began to make heaving, orgasmic noises with each thrust as I wailed uncontrollably. Her hand came up, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing, keeping my head up and prolonging my abuse. With one final heavy slam of her heel, the repetitive motion, heat from her body and cruel abuse of my nads, I jettisoned a huge load of cum inside my pants. An enormous wet patch showed my state of defeat to my new wife. Tracey released me from her grip, allowing me to crumble to the kitchen floor, a beaten puddle of a man. "I think I just about emptied his balls. Now, good luck getting his dick hard, mummy. Happy Honeymoon," she beamed sarcastically before storming out.

     "Tut tut," Tracey's mother mused. "Silly girl." She kicked me in the chest until I was splayed out across the floor on my back. "Open your mouth," she ordered. I complied. She sashayed over to me, lifting her skirt and shifting her panties to the side. She placed a foot on either side of my face and squatted down, facing my groin, until her perfect pussy lips smothered my nose and mouth.

      "Now," she chided, grabbing my swollen testicles in her fist. "Lets get that tongue moving, shall we?" She squeezed cruelly.
      I screamed, weakened and at her mercy, wildly working my tongue all over her pussy. At that moment Nikki walked in the back door, covered in a thick sheen of sweat fresh from a run. She took out her headphones and examined the scene.
     "Hello, Nikki," my wife moaned, not the least ashamed of her state.
     "Well, he was never good for much else," she breathed heavily, still catching her breath. "Allow me."
     She walked over to us, kicking my legs apart. My wife briefly removed her hands from my mangled nuts in order for Nikki to begin her sneakered assault on my reproductive organs, I thrashed and screamed in agony as swing after swing of her sneaker-clad foot pummelled my organs.
     "Clever... Girl," cooed my wife as she began to cream down my face.
     "My pleasure," huffed Nikki. "Anything to make things square with the ex. Although they look like more of a puddle than a square at this point."
     My wife's orgasm subsided, but she remained sitting on my face. She pulled a cigarette from a pack she had hidden in her blouse, lit it and inhaled deeply. "Want a turn?" She smiled up at Nikki as she flicked ash onto my crotch. I yelped but was muffled by her mound.
     She lifted off me gingerly, my face was still covered in her cream. She stood and inhaled her cigarette deeply, surveying the fruits of her labour.
     "Please no more, mommy," I whimpered.
     My wife took a moment of pause, "I knew it was Oedipal." She leaned down and scooped up my ankles in her grip and raised my legs into a V. "Mommy's very angry at you for cumming for Tracey, and little Danny needs to pay." Nikki lowered her running shorts and manoeuvred her sweaty crotch over and down onto my face. Nikki began riding my mouth as my wife thrust her high heel viciously down into my testicles again and again.

Tracey's Mom Puts Her Foot Down

Dispensing free vasectomies since 1975.

     When I walked out of my bedroom into the hallway that morning, bleary-eyed, the sting from the Deep Heat Tracey had smeared onto my balls still made me feel queasy. I walked bow-legged toward the living room where Tracey was doing her morning yoga routine. I stood by the door admiring her limber physique, and how flexible her legs were in her warrior pose. She caught sight of me through the corner of her eye as she breathed out, her chest heaving in her tight workout top. Sweat dripping over her body, moist patches on her clefts evident through her tight yoga pants, traced her tight buttocks.

     "How are they hanging?" She chirped, excitedly.

     "Sore, they're still really sensitive," I said. "I barely slept all night."

     "Good," she smiled. "So if they got punted right now that would hurt really bad, huh?"

     "Yeah, I think I'm going to need a couple days off at-"

     Suddenly a gracefully-aged, feminine leg arched around the doorway, jamming its delicate, French-manicured, bare toes through my aching manhood, deep into my pelvis.

     I gasped deeply, dropping to my knees, wailing and keening like a beaten dog.

     "Too bad," came a smokey voice that I immediately recognised from my youth. It was Tracey's mother, she must have come to town. Her gorgeous, hour-glass figure emerged into view.

     "Mrs. Winters," I coughed and spluttered. "I didn't know you were in town."

     She stood before me victoriously, hands on hips, as I kneeled before her in the depths of agony. Even at her age, she was stunning. Some would say she was inappropriately dressed in a skimpy outfit, something I'd expect to see Tracey wearing. A tight red crop-top with a bare midriff and a tightly banded black miniskirt. Her assault on my balls stung more knowing I'd be rubbing one out to this very image after I'd healed.
     I still remembered her youth so vividly - the masturbatory aid of my adolescence.
     She drew her leg back and rocketed her toes into my balls a second time with a ferocity I wouldn't have thought she could muster. 

     The pain was blinding as I heaved and rushed forward, crumpling onto her leg. My face rested against her cool thigh. She left her foot buried deeply into my manhood as I strained to retain consciousness.

     "Tut tut," she chided. "You shouldn't make assumptions about a woman. Mr. Winters and I have gotten a divorce. It's Mz. Winters now."

     She arched her toes higher inside my crumpled mess of a groin. I wailed incoherently. I heaved, her toes elicited the desired response. Despite the agony running through my abdomen, my swollen member laid itself erect up against her devastating shin.

     "Mr. Winters didn't like the way I handled his goods. So lets just say he doesn't stand to attention any more. You on the other hand... Well... You seem to get very stiff indeed."

     Tracey appeared by her mother's side. "Like I told you, mom, he has a foot fetish and a ballbusting fetish. He really likes this. If you crunch his nuts hard enough he usually cums all over himself."

     "I see," she practically moaned. "I thought you were having me on, but this is very interesting."

     I was still beyond words after her second vicious kick, slumped over her leg.

     Tracey crouched down to my eye level, "Sorry, I forgot to tell you, my mom is visiting us and she'll be staying in your room. I'm sure when you're capable of speaking again, you'll tell me you don't mind. She told me about that time she caught you jerking off to a picture of her in our house when we were teenagers so I guess you owe her for all the mental jerk material. And I told her about your little masochistic streak, so I think this should be a fun month for the two of you. Okay, sweetie?" She cooed, slapping my cheek softly for emphasis. I moaned in response.

     Tracey stood up, turning to her mother, "I know it doesn't feel that big on your leg, but it's about 6 inches, so it's not much but it's something. If he can't keep it up from the busting, just go reverse cow-girl and make sure you keep a vice grip on his nuts, or better yet put one of your shoes over his nose as soon as you get home from a long day. He's usually rock hard after that."

     "Wow, you seem to have quite a handle on this."

     "You have no idea, mom. Okay, well I'm off to attend to that appointment we organised, Daniel. I'll let you two get better acquainted." She sashayed out the door, soaking in sweat, still in her yoga gear.

     "Well, she seems to be making quite the business out of these vasectomies. Looks like you got yours for a bargain, tiger," said Mz. Winters. "Now, lets get you onto the couch."

     She withdrew her foot from my crotch, causing waves of new pain to echo through my abdomen. I groaned loudly and collapsed. 

     She kneeled down to my side. "Come on now, get up. Stop being such a baby. They're only your balls."

     I was beyond complying. My legs were useless to me. My body was screaming for me to never move again.

     "Maybe you need a little motivation," she reached down to my waistband and slipped her hand inside my shorts. Her delicate and soft, manicured hand snaked its way around to my balls and locked on like a clamp." I wailed a high pitch note. "Up you get, son," she cooed.

     She lifted me up by the testicles and my legs suddenly found strength purely from the fear of having my balls ripped off. She pulled me higher than necessary and forced me to walk on my toes to the nearest couch before she positioned me in front of the seat and released me, I dropped back to my knees, a heaving mess.

     She slowly and gracefully perched herself onto the seat in front of me, crossing her legs. Her feet bobbing dangerously close to the mangled organs she'd just pounded. 

     "Now," she pouted. "As you can imagine a lady of leisure like myself would have racked up quite a lot of debt since my husband hobbled away nursing his excuse for reproductive organs. I've been thinking, Tracey says that you've been paying her bills ever since you two started on this sterility project of yours."
     She saw the shock in my eyes, "Oh yes, she's told me everything about your useless little scrotum stuffers." She jabbed at my crotch with her big toe. I startled. "My baby girl sure did a number on your nads, eh? You poor baby."
     She smiled affectionately, feigning compassion, before suddenly becoming stern again. A dark look passed over her eyes. She leaned forward and grabbed a hold of my scrotum through my loose pants, cupping them securely in her open palm.
     "Now, I'm 58, so I'm not interested in a man with working baby-makers. You can shoot all the blanks in me you want. What I do need is someone to pick up the tab. Understand?"
     "I-" She tightened her grip to a vice before I could get a word out.
     "Be careful, sweetie. Remember who's got your whole world in their hand. And I haven't even used my nails yet. Now, answer correctly and I'll go easy on you."
     She raised her free hand high into the air, balling up a fist.
     "Will you marry me?"
     "I-" *crunch*
     "Tsk tsk. That looked like it hurt. Now, I'll ask again, will you marry me?"
     "I-" *crackle*
     "Now I have to use my nails, baby." *squish*
     I screamed, "Yes! Yes! Please no more!" I was sobbing at her feet.
     "I'm glad you finally came to your senses. Now stop sobbing, it's not all bad news. You know, my ex-husband had quite the foot fetish too, so you pick up a few things by the time you're my age. How about we celebrate? It's not everyday you get engaged, now is it?"
     She raised her feet to wrap around my battered member. Her wrinkled soles began their ministrations and before long I was ready for my first orgasm at her feet.

The Ballbusting Scene from "On The Doll"

A Movie Clip with the very sexy Brittany Snow and a very likely Testicular Rupture...

This is Brittany Snow from Pitch Perfect. You know, the one with the red hair who sneaks into Anna Kendrick's shower. The one you've definitely jerked off to at least once before.

Here's hoping she is a method actor. And uses those feet too.

Here's a link below to a video that's becoming surprisingly hard to find. Thank you, Brittany, for doing a video of the sort of thing I'd only fantasised about until now. I've watched this clip many times over the years and it has definitely stayed with me.

Caution: the video is not intended to be sexy. It's very violent, but the sound her vicious fists make toward the end is very evocative. You can tell just from the sound that whatever she's still pummelling at the end has been reduced to a wet mess. Depending on how your ballbusting fetish has a hold of you, you might need some tissues.

Just imagine yourself under her, taking that beating. I personally would prefer her delicate foot to cause my agony, like the one pictured above that she's teasing us with, in the exact same scenario but with some very heavy stomping. Watching her hair bounce as she thrusts her foot down would be glorious. And then maybe if I'm still conscious, a little face-time with her soles and toes afterward, just lapping away with my tongue, would definitely make me forget about the permanent damage she's done.

Favourite moment: "He's fine. He's just unconscious." [*shudder*] Yeah, she's done this before...

Watch the video.

Tracey's Money Making Toes

A vasectomy you could jerk off to

     Tracey sashayed into my room holding a large, heavy-looking folder. She was wearing her white strappy heels with a black mini skirt and tight, red bare-midriff top. She immediately had me hard.
     I was still lying in my bed naked with an icepack firmly pressed onto my swollen mushy wad of remaining testicles.
     She sauntered up to the side of my bed, pouting seductively, feigning compassion for the miserable state she'd put me in with a thrust of her heel and a kitchen drawer.
     "Ooooo... Poor baby, do they still hurt?" She cooed, bending down with her hands on her knees, providing me an ample view down her flimsy top.
     "So bad," I whimpered.
     She perked up, "Good. I'd think I'd lost my touch if they didn't. Why don't you give me a look at that mess you call your reproductive organs then?"
     I lifted the icepack off my crotch to let her inspect the swollen purple lumps in my scrotum.
     "Wow, I really fucked you up good. Is this what you were hoping would happen all those times you jerked off to the thought of me fucking up your nuts?"
     "I didn't think it would hurt this much, and it hurts so bad when I jerk off now."
     "Oh poor little numbnuts, at least you can still get hard. Look at this," she said flipping open the very large folder. "I got them to check your sperm count after I splattered them all over the inside of that drawer, and it looks like it's official: no babies for you."
     "What?!" I shrieked.
      She wickedly smiled, "Have a look for yourself." She dropped the heavy folder, spine-first into my exposed gonads. I screamed out and began coughing.
     "Whoopsie," she pouted. "Well at least you can still feel something down there. Count yourself lucky."
     "Why?!" I moaned through gritted teeth.
     "That was for jerking off without my permission." She cutely bounced on the balls of her feet, very pleased with herself and her control over me.
     "You're right." I admitted. "I'm sorry."
     I gingerly lifted the folder and inspected the reports. It was true. My nuts were practically useless.
     Tracey sat down on the bed beside me, "To think, I finally followed through on all my threats to sterilise you."
     Suddenly an idea sprang to mind.
    "Hey Tracey, I know you've lost your job recently-"
     Tracey's mood turned sour at the thought and her perfectly manicured hand shot up between my legs, vicing my already damaged and sensitive nut meat. She began to crush and twist.
     "You mean how I was unfairly let go by my boss after his wife discovered the bruises on his balls?What about it?"
     "Well!-" I yelped. In a higher pitch than usual, I continued, "Have you thought about doing this professionally?"
     She loosened her grip, "You mean, getting guys to lick my feet, suck my toes, pay my bills and then get their nuts mangled? I thought you were the only person dumb enough to get off on that."
     "I was thinking specifically the involuntary vasectomy you just gave me. There's a pretty big market for vasectomies and they can be expensive. Have a look at this online forum I'm on, all these guys would kill to have someone as hot as you permanently end their sperm production."
     I reached for my laptop and handed it over to her.
     "Well," she started, examining the thread, "there are a lot of guys on here ready to part with a lot of cash. And it would be a shame to let my gift go to waste, between you, my ex and now my ex-boss, I'm pretty good at ruining sex lives."
     "You got your boss too?!" This was the first I'd heard of it.
     "What? You'd think I'd let him fire me and then go home to fuck his ditsy wife? No, no, no, sweetie, I'm pretty sure he won't be getting it up again."
     My dick stood firmly at attention between us, she cast a sideways glance at it raising an eyebrow, pleased with the effect she was having on me.
     "What did you do to him? It took you months to kill off my sperm."
     "Oh honey, I was just toying with you. You're my friend. If I'd wanted to I could have ended your manhood with one kick."
      I visibly choked at the thought of the power at Tracey's feet. A jet of precum oozed down my cock. Tracey dabbed a finger at the head of my cock and whisked it up to her lips, sucking her finger clean. "Yep, tastes like you're shooting blanks. Just like my ex - Andy."
     She winked at me as I moaned at her touch.
     "Let me show you the shoes I rocked his world with?"
     I nodded feverishly.
     She left the room and moments later returned with a devastating strappy stiletto heel. It was a six inch heel, the thought of this open-toed weapon slamming into a man's crotch made me wince.
     She came back to the bed, "I convinced him I'd give him a goodbye blowjob and handcuffed him to his desk, then I stomped until there was nothing left. He even threw up, but I went out for lunch and only came back when I knew he'd missed the chance a hospital could have done anything for him." I audibly moaned as she handed me the shoe, "Go on, you can smell it if you want."
     I jumped at the chance, sinking my face into her shoe. The scent was divine.
     "Good pet, now start cleaning it with your tongue."
     I was on the verge of cumming. I carefully bathed and lapped at every aspect of the leather with my tongue, picking up the salt and aromas of her foot sweat.
     "Now give it back to me," she ordered. I reluctantly complied. "And this, my pet, is how it feels."
     Without hesitation she jammed the heel into my wounded crotch. All the weight of her delicate arm swing and the ferocity of the heel mangled my nuts, skewering them perfectly.
     I blacked out immediately.
     "So easy," she thought. "Maybe she could make a living out of vasectomies. God, men were dumb and disgusting." She placed the dangerous heel back on her beautifully pedicured foot.
      "Better wake him up to get those forum details and start crushing those nuts. Time to go get some Deep Heat to rub him awake," she cruelly planned. "And I should probably get him a bucket. I'm definitely going to make him puke."
   
   

Ballbuster Hall of Fame - Cynthia Rothrock

Growing up I'd always wished someone could point me in the right direction and help me figure out some of the stranger feelings I was having. So in that spirit, I thought I'd occasionally post about some beautiful women who've helped me figure that out.

Now that is a foot that's poised to sterilise.

Cynthia Rothrock is a martial arts star from the 80's that never hesitated to devastate a pair of testicles in the heat of the moment. The quality of the films also meant that there was often a squish or wet crunch sound effect with the ballbusting - something that always made me feel uncomfortable when watching such films with company.

Much thanks to Cynthia for making a career out of creating mainstream material that ballbusting fetishists could jerk off to. Women would leave the film feeling empowered, most men feeling insecure in their manhood and the rare few men scrambling to memorise every detail as they awkwardly tried to hide the wet patch forming in their pants.

If only women like Cynthia would offer their services to the public. I couldn't think of a better way to get a vasectomy than a few expert kicks until I'm shooting blanks.

I do not own these photos. 

Once your dick is hard and out of the way,
that 90's heel is wide enough to crush both nuts.

What vasectomy dreams are made of.

Even today she's a GILF - grandma I'd like to fuck up my balls.

Ballbuster Hall of Fame - Asa Akira

Growing up I'd always wished someone could point me in the right direction and help me figure out some of the stranger feelings I was having. So in that spirit, I thought I'd occasionally post about some beautiful women who've helped me figure that out.

A true goddess. That's the sort of leg you want to make you half a man.

Asa Akira has only ever done one major ballbusting video, but if you've seen it, you've definitely cum hard. I often think back to how thoroughly she dominates in the video and how merciless she is with her kicks and punches even when she gets a man cumming.

Definitely worth a search online, her beautiful figure and fierce nature had my attention instantly. I would let her crush a testicle to worship her toes.

A goddess and a dream, every Asian model since has me daydreaming about her and has singlehandedly made me an Asian ballbusting fetishist. She's a natural and if she were the type of mistress to keep pets for foot worship, financial domination and ballbusting discipline,  I'd submit my testicles willingly.

I do not own these photos. 

Just thinking about what the inside of those boots smell like gets me hard.
What I wouldn't give to run my tongue along the sole before they ground down on my nuts.

I could cum on these tights just from burying my nose into that seam between her cheeks.
And once I was spent, a nice back heel into my balls would be deserved after ruining her yoga pants.

Under that heel, I could rupture a testicle and jerk off to the thought for a lifetime.

Schoolgirl Tracey Busts Hard

A teen girl's school shoes. I'll bet they sweat up nicely after a long day.

     Mr Smith wrung his hands anxiously. It was 4.15pm and school was out for the day, but he had one last duty before he could go home and jerk away the stress. He had an appointment with one of his troublemaker students. She had so much potential, but was squandering it on makeup and fashion rather than improving her mind. He knew she was intelligent beyond her years, but he just couldn't motivate her. So he thought a little pep talk was in order. He had scheduled the meeting for 3.30pm but Tracey had not yet arrived. Typical.

     He tried to put his improper thoughts out of his mind as he waited. She was a budding 18 year old. Physically much more developed than her classmates. She flaunted it too. Always wearing impeccable makeup and perfume and hiking up her skirt while sitting in the front row, crossing and uncrossing her milky thighs. There had been numerous occasions Mr Smith had to remain seated at his desk to avoid the class of girls from discovering his tented crotch.

     He was only 25, a young male teacher at an all girls' school. He was quite good looking too, in a boyish way, and was the object of much teenage girlish fantasy. Regardless he was still torn up over his borderline obsession with Tracey. He had never had this problem with the younger girls, but his recent transfer to the final year girls had been very challenging. These were women with a fresh sense of the power they held over men and how easily they could be manipulated.
     It had started as a mere infatuation here and there. Tracey's face popping into his mind as he often came alone. A mere thought while in the shower. To something more sinister. Sniffing her chair after class. Sucking on the gum she'd left stuck under her desk. Each time he'd cum harder than before until she was all he could think about.

     He'd try hard to put this all out of his mind before every new class, but it was overwhelming. Once Tracey had forgotten her used gym socks after a long sports day at her desk. The sole and toes looked damp and brown with sweat pooling. A careless accident, but he knew he had to taste them. The smell was still so delicious even though months had passed and the salty taste had been washed away by his desperate and pathetic suckling. The vinegary musk of her feet through the worn socks was intoxicating. They stayed by his bedside so he could lay them over his face every night before sleep and just fantasise. 

     This was going to be a difficult one-on-one session.

     Meanwhile at the lockers, "Fucking Mr Smith," spat Tracey. "He's making me stay for a meeting after school."

     "Oh really?!" said Nikki excitedly. "Maybe he likes you!"

     "Of course he likes me. He's just another boy with a hard-on. I know why he stays behind his desk some classes. He can't control his tiny dick every time I wear a short skirt."

     "No way! You're so lucky," giggled Nikki, her breasts bouncing. "How's the class going?"

     "Well, he let up on me for a while after I left him my socks. I thought a little jerk off material might make him go easy on me, but now I have this meeting."

     "What are you going to do?"

     "What I always do with boys. Put him in his place... At my feet."

     "You're so cruel."

     "The meeting was at 3.30."

     "And you're late!"

     "That's the plan. I'm letting him spend some time with his thoughts, making sure his balls are nice and full. There's no place to relieve yourself in that classroom."

     "What if he's already gone home?"

     "Please. He's got a dick. He'll stick around at least another hour just to see what I'm wearing."

     "Does he still smell your chair?" 

     "Every class. I even saw him take my gum from under the table once and suck on it."

     "Ew!" 

     "I know. This is going to be easy. I'm going to take his left nut by 5pm, I promise you that. Then no more History study for me."

     "I thought he taught English though."

     "Whatever he teaches, Nikki, he'll be doing it with one ball between his legs."

     Tracey sauntered into the classroom at 4.45pm. She was dressed to kill in her short plaid skirt, hiked up the thigh, always teasing every eye it passed. Her white button-up shirt was undone dangerously past her ample cleavage - a hint of a black lace bra beneath. Her frilly white ankle socks draped over her black leather Mary Janes.
     Mr Smith, even with all his mental focus and preparation was speechless at the vision crossing the room toward his desk. He happened to be sitting at this desk momentarily, but now he dared not move for the swelling just underneath it. Tracey could tell from the light perspiration on his forehead that she was having her intended effect. She'd seen it before on her step-father as well as countless boys and men she'd come across and so easily gotten exactly what she wanted. Mr Smith was no different.
     "How are they hanging?" She meowed, locking in a sultry and unfaltering gaze directly into Mr Smith's eye. He couldn't look away. Her bedroom eyes sent a torrent of blood to his cock.
     "They're- I'm fine," he stuttered. "I thought we could have a- a talk, about your performance."
     "My performance is just fine," she placed her hands wide across the edge of his desk and bent down, giving him an awe-inspiring view at her freshly blossomed cleavage. "Just ask the boys."
     "Tracey! I would never discuss such matters with your classmates."
     "I wasn't talking about those boys," she smirked, her eyes shifting downward to his crotch. "I was talking about these boys." It was time for her to make her move and establish her dominance. Her hand stretched out across the desk. Her flawless red nails and petite young hand reached down past the desk and grabbed a hold of Mr Smith's crotch. He arched his back forward and moaned instinctively. Her touch was so gentle and delicate. But he knew it was wrong. She was his student.
     "Tracey please..." he begged. "This is wrong."
     "Tell me to stop," she chided, slowly drawing circles with her palm around the ever-expanding tent in his pants. "No?" she cooed in baby-talk, pursing her lips playfully.
     He locked eyes with her and couldn't bring himself to say a word. He hoped this moment of ecstasy would last forever.
     "That's what I thought." She almost sounded disappointed. She withdrew her hand abruptly and Mr Smith collapsed subtly. A mental defeat if not a complete physical one.
     "I'm sorry, Tracey," he said exasperatedly.
     "Oh, don't be sorry. Everyone has to learn some time."
     "Learn what?"
     "Their proper place." She sashayed around his desk, swinging her hips, one pedicured foot daintily in front of the other, she came to his side and scooted herself up onto his desk next to him. She took her time crossing her legs. He could now see a hint of panties between her legs and a jet of pre-cum began to stain his crotch.
     "Those pants look a little tight," she pouted, talking in her baby-talk voice again. "Let me help you out of them." She reached down and undid his button and fly expertly. His cock now at full-mast shot forth.
     "Now how about I give you a lesson in biology and sociology." She wrapped her small hand around his throbbing head. "What is this?""
     "It's my penis," he quivered.
     "Wrong, baby. It's actually your brain."
     He looked confused.
     As she spoke she wrapped her fingers around the crown of his penis and started manipulating him to the point of orgasm. He was struggling to breathe let alone think. She continued to work his cock until he was about to cum, as he approached orgasm, she immediately stopped, stealing away an orgasm at its verge. He moaned pathetically.
     "You just let your student seduce you and nearly make you cum all over yourself. Tsk tsk." She ran her nail up the length of his cock, eliciting another spurt of pre-cum. "Definitely your brain, you do all your thinking with it, huh?" The shame coated his face in thick application. His training was proceeding very well.
     "And what do we have here?" She moved her hand lower down and grabbed a hold of his testicles in her fist, roughly enough to cause the air to escape his lungs.
     "My testicles?!" He said in a shocked higher pitch. Less of an answer to a question of anatomy than a reactive yelp.
     "Some men use them to make the loads of cum I swallow, we call them alphas. But for men like you - or betas - I prefer to think of them as your anatomical reset button, or a shock collar if you will." She began to squeeze them quite roughly in her dainty hand. The nut meat compressed sending shockwaves of pain through Mr Smith's abdomen. He groaned deeply. She pulled his head into her chest, resting his head tenderly across her voluptuous breasts, all the while slowly compressing his organs in her petite hand. "Deep breaths now," she instructed.
     "You see, grades and assignments don't matter if your whole world is in the palm of my hand. Now this is going to be so humiliating for you: repeat after me," she said nonchalantly, inspecting the nails of her free hand while she singlehandedly kept Mr Smith in the depths of agonising despair. "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey."
     "Tracey please, let them go." He wailed, sweating profusely as he felt his ability to reproduce tremble in the soft hand of this devastating teenager.
     "Alright, I didn't want to have to use my nails, but if you're not going to play along..."
     She clamped her fingers inward, digging her nails into his balls. His eyes wide, he squealed like a pig, "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey!" He keened a pained screech and started hyperventilating.
     "Now you're getting it. So much faster than my stepfather! Repeat after me: I am your slave."
     "I am your slave!"
     "I live to serve Princess Tracey."
     "I live to serve Princess Tracey!"
     "I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever."
     "I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever!"
     "Please crush them harder, Princess."
     "Please crush them harder, Princess!" He shuddered as he realised what he'd said. She smirked.
     She forced her nails to almost meet at the centre of his nuts. He let out a blood curdling scream, tears flowed freely down his cheeks. She relented and he collapsed into the chair, she loosened but still did not completely release his balls from her grip.
     "I will give you an A for the semester."
     "I will give you an A for the semester," he winced, defeated.
     "What time is it?"
     "What time is it?"
     She rolled her eyes, "No, limpdick! What is the actual time?"
     He looked up at the clock on the wall, "4.59," he struggled. She relinquished his balls for the moment.
     She scooted across the desk to sit directly in front of him, kicking off her Mary Janes, she placed her sock-clad feet on his lap. That same gorgeous aroma of foot sweat drenched his nostrils, her socks leaving damp marks behind wherever they graced his pants. She angled her dainty but beautiful feet between his legs. Her left sole expertly pushed his cock up across his stomach, and her right trapped his left nut between the pad of her foot and the seat of the chair. In this position he could have seen the pristine outline of her pussy lips through her white panties but he was in too much pain to fully appreciate the life-long masturbatory aid this could have provided.
     "What are you doing?" He muttered.
     "Oh, I made a promise to a friend. Hope you weren't planning on having kids. Hold still."
     She stood up from the desk, balancing on his chair through his nutmeat. She looked effortlessly graceful and elegant propped up, her posture exquisite in her lithe form, like a ballerina. She bounced viciously three times and a crunch was audible. Mr Smith could not appreciate it in the moments before thankfully passing out, but the view up her skirt was exquisite.

     He woke to blinding pain in his groin and abdomen, and a note laid out before him on the desk. Tracey was long gone.
     "Dear Mr Smith,
     I'm sorry I had to crush your left nut and leave, but I got bored. I brought my friend Nikki in as well. She's always had a crush on you and was planning on blowing you after we graduated next month, but after she saw how pathetic you looked, she changed her mind. I hope you know you made two hot girls giggle a little bit, so I'd say losing a nut was totally worth it :p
     Btw she agrees with me that you have a shrimp dick. Also she wants an 'A' as well, and you should probably just do it because she's not as nice as me. She'll crush your last nut real slow. Like I'm talking hours.
     Also from experience, you're going to want to go to the hospital to get that nutmeat taken out. Tell them a crazy ex-girlfriend slammed a baseball bat up there or something, I don't care. Whatever you have to say to avoid jail lolz.
     Hopefully I haven't already given you a complete vasectomy, but make sure you remember our deal or I'll have to crush the other one too :(
     And to show you that I'm not all mean, I left you the socks I was wearing when I rocked your world. I'll bet they're super sweaty! ;)
     Happy jerk sessions! The first few are going to hurt real bad :p
     Princess Tracey
     xoxo"

     He grasped for the socks laid out beside the letter and pressed them to his face. She was right, they were soaked, his face felt moist from their touch. Even through the pain he was somehow comforted by their familiar scent. He hungrily lapped at them, savouring their vinegary contents. He wrung a droplet of Tracey's foot sweat onto his tongue. He collapsed forward exasperated onto his desk. Every movement was excruciating. He relented, masturbating furiously as tears streamed down his face and a high-pitched whine escaped his lips. Every graze of his scrotum with his fist as he jerked caused new waves of pain. In moments, he was cumming a huge blood-stained load all over himself.
     It dawned on him then in his post-coital state that Tracey's last and cruelest act was leaving behind her socks. She knew he would have to cum as soon as he saw them, and that he couldn't have Paramedics find him with cum all over himself. That would raise all kinds of questions.
     And he could never mention what truly happened as no one would ever believe he was so easily dominated. Surely they would only ever imagine she was acting in self defence against his lecherous advances. He let out a defeated moan as he mentally prepared himself for the torturous walk to the bathroom before calling an ambulance.

     Tracey and Nikki walked carefree down the street, side-by-side, hand-in-hand - a perfect vision. Their matching scantily-adjusted school uniforms forming every inch of a perfect wet dream.
     An ambulance wailed past the pair, sirens blaring. The driver paused to study the girls as he passed, the familiar rush of blood to his member made him shift uncomfortably. He forced himself to focus on his work and promised himself he would picture the young girls once he was finally back in the shower after work, away from his nagging wife.
      "You think that's for him?" Nikki chimed.
      "Probably," Tracey exhaled.
      Nikki paused in thought, "Do you think he can still have kids?"
      "Who cares."
      "I think I'm going to blow him anyway."
      "You slut," Tracey teased. "I suppose it wouldn't be hard to fit that whole thing in your mouth."
      "Shut up," retorted Nikki. "You're the one that left him your socks to jerk off with."
      Tracey paused in thought, why had she left her socks? Did she like the idea of him jerking to her? Did she pity him? Or did she actually care for Mr Smith after all?
      No, she quickly reminded herself. She was only to be dicked down by alphas.
      "Don't blow him, Nikki. Your mouth is for alpha cocks."
      Nikki sulked, deflated but resolute.
      "Now that we've got Mr Smith by the balls," she smiled cruelly, "how much do you think a teacher's salary would be split between us?"
      Nikki immediately brightened at the possibility.